Spellbound
by HeartofDixie8
Summary: Join James Potter in his first year of Hogwarts as he discovers the past, lives for the present, and dreads the future as another formidable enemy arises. The magic and mischief of Harry Potter continue with the next generation in Spellbound. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

For the first time in his life, James was nervous. He'd been excited for so long, he'd almost forgotten that with school came new responsibilities. Sure, there were things he would learn, people he would make friends with, but he was the firstborn son of the Chosen One. His dad wasn't one to emphasize glory. As a matter of fact, he hated it. But it didn't stop James from seeming overshadowed to the public eye.

He had roused himself early, wanting to have time to mull things over before someone gave him a pep talk. Like his father, James didn't like people feeling sorry for him. He fathomed what his next step should be.

James strolled down the bedroom corridor. Each child had been given a separate room, their father knowing all to well what claustrophobia and fear could do to a child. The only thing in the house that was completely, beyond a shadow of a doubt off-limits was the room at the end of the hall. The nameplate simply read Sirius. Never, under any circumstances, were the children to go in there.

He knew his grandfather's best friend was a bit of a rebel, but wondering what sort of things were in there fascinated James. He'd heard the stories hundreds of times. Sirius Black escaped Azkaban. Sirius Black, godfather to the famous Harry Potter. Black ran away from home as a boy, you know. Died in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. His surname was nearly as synonymous with fame in the Wizarding World as Potter.

James crept down the staircase to the bathroom. He didn't turn on a light, just in case his parents were awake. He turned the knob labeled cold underneath the shower head and undressed.

For some odd reason, James had always loved to wash in cool water. From the time he could walk and talk, Ginny had told him how to take a shower instead of a bath. Unfortunately, James had misread her instructions or simply disregarded the directions entirely because he'd never taken a warm shower in his life.

The frigid water-soaked his messy hair, weighing it down. James ran his fingers through it, combing it out of his eyes. It made him feel at ease, knowing no one was around to blur his thoughts in here. He went through the motions fluidly and after a few minutes realized how hungry he was. He'd better eat well this morning or he'd end up being nauseous on the Hogwarts Express. Joy.

After that, he hurried through drying off and finding the right get-up. As much as James wanted to look presentable for his first train ride, his stomach was his top priority.

He wandered into the kitchen, his hair still wet and messy. It wouldn't make much difference if it were dry anyway. It ran in the family, of course. Dad was the same and James could swear his younger brother's was beginning to get a curl as well as the normal unkempt look.

"Fancy a cup of tea?" James jumped, scraping his forearm along the rigid part of the cabinet. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"_Dad_," he complained. "What are you doing up anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't get back to sleep, thought I'd stick around to see which one of you was up, though I had a sneaking suspicion it was you."

"Why me?" he asked.

"Because you, James, are going to Hogwarts today," he said matter-of-factly. "Pull up a seat, I'll make some tea before your mother wakes up."

James hesitantly sat down in a chair. What had kept him awake? Better yet, what was he going to talk to him about? Wasn't he the one who disliked pep talks more than James, himself? After a minute or so, Harry returned to the table with the pot of tea, pouring his and waiting for James to do the same.

"You think I'm going to give you an old cliché farewell and send you on your way?" The two of them grinned. He'd lightened the mood very much, and James figured this was a friendly talk, not a lecturely father-son conversation. "Are you ever going to figure out I've got years more experience with sarcasm?"

"Probably not," James admitted. "What are you going to say then?"

At this, he gave a sly smile. "You're just as scared as I was my first trip," Harry guessed. "Scared you won't live up to the name." James nodded. Could he literally read his thoughts or was it simply that his father knew him better than anyone else? "But you've got an asset I didn't have."

"What's that?"

"Your mother's determination," he remarked. "You hide fear better than I did. To sum it up, I was a weakling at your age. I'll give you some words of advice: it doesn't matter what you're born, but what you grow to be."

"Dumbledore?" James asked. He'd grown to like it when people made references to Dumbledore. Obviously, he was a talented wizard. His bloody brother was named for him, he'd better be brilliant.

Harry nodded. "You'll always be a Potter, but I urge you not to follow in my footsteps. Promise you'll do your best to stay out of trouble?"

James answered, "Sure, D—" He paused as his father's eyebrows knitted together, turning around to see what was going on. "Al?" asked James.

"Al," Harry repeated.

"Albus!" they shouted at the same time before Al plopped into a chair across from James, where their dad was recently sitting.

"I'm awake," Al said groggily. Through the progression of their conversation, the sun had risen enough to shine a bright light through the window. "Lil might be too," he added with a yawn.

Harry rose and set the cup in the sink as quickly as possible. "That can't be good," he said to himself as James followed him up the stairs to their parents' room, knowing all too well what the possibilities were.

As predicted, the pair opened the door to Lily sitting next to her mother on the bed. And sure enough, Lily had a glass of water in her hand, ready to thrust Ginny's palm into it. "No!" Harry whispered urgently. "Lily get down from there. Accio!" he commanded, whipping out his wand to get a splash of water in the face.

Ginny sat up in a fit of laughter, apparently feigning sleep before. "And that," she called giddily, "is what happens growing up with six brothers!" Even Al, who really hadn't been acting, had come blundering up the stairs to see what all the fuss was about.

"Thank you, Gin. What a great eye-opener," he said sardonically as he removed his glasses, trying to rub the water off. "I swear, I regret teaching you those Muggle tricks."

When he finally seemed satisfied that there were no smudges, he slid his glasses back into place. "You brought it on yourself, love, you said I couldn't pull it off."

Yes, the Potter household was a lively one, even on early mornings, but James could never have been more nervous.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review your thoughts and comments!


	2. Chapter 2

"Out of the way, scrawny git," a husky, older student snarled as he shoved his way through the aisle, moving James to the side. He regained his balance and continued to propel himself and his trunk down the train and into a compartment.

After a struggle of lifting a heavy trunk on a platform above his head, he finally sat down to relax. Across from him sat a short, mousey boy who was in fact so small, it was difficult to say whether he was even old enough to be a first year. "Hello!" the boy said eagerly. "I'm Travis Enloe. What's your name?"

"James," he replied. "James Potter." James could only hope that this elvish new acquaintance was a Muggle born and had never heard of the famous conflict between his father and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Pleased to meet you, James," he said as produced two lollipops from his pocket. He spent a good thirty seconds debating on which one to eat, something he'd never known anyone to do. Even his mother wouldn't hesitate to pop a lemon drop. James watched as he carefully unwrapped the blue one, placed it on his tongue, and stuck the purple one in his pocket.

Is there anything about this kid that isn't odd, James thought. "I'll just be... going to the bathroom before the train starts moving," he fumbled, trying to excuse himself the boy's attention.

"See you in a bit then, James!" called Travis, as he shut the door. James strode quickly away from the compartment until he reached the end of the line. He's only walked this far because he didn't want to stay in an overcrowded room full of girls in vivid colors or older, uninviting boys like the one he'd met only moments ago.

In this partition of the train, there was just one person. The girl rose from her seat to unlock the compartment door. James figured it was a fair deal better than where he'd come from, so he followed the girl inside.

"Good morning. Is it your first time at Hogwarts too?" she asked. James nodded. "I didn't want to be in the middle of a crowd. I don't really fancy getting into trouble before term begins."

It was her enormous, dark brown eyes, her most prominent feature, that stood out to James. He studied her for a moment and declared, "I'm James Potter, what's your name?"

"Lucille Kiely, you can call me Lucy."

"Nice to meet you, Lucy," James said. "So, what house would you like to be in?"

"If only," replied Lucy, sighing and rolling her eyes.

"What makes you say that?"

"My Dad was a Hufflepuff," she explained. "Most of the family is, actually."

"So, what house do you want?" asked James.

She paused a moment, as though contemplating what she should say to this stranger. "I wouldn't care if it is Hufflepuff, really," Lucy admitted. "I just don't want to be the same as everyone else in the family."

"Understandable," replied James. "We can all get caught up in our parents' glory sometimes."

Her eyes widened. "You recognized my last name?" she asked.

"What? No, I was sort of talking about my Dad," he explained. "Who are your parents, then?"

"My Mum's a Muggle," said Lucy, "but my Dad is Aiden Kiely. He used to play Quidditch for the Kenmare Kestrels before I was born."

"Really? My Mum played for the Holyhead Harpies! Ginny Weasley— well, Potter after she married—"

"Harry Potter," she finished. "Yes, I suppose you would understand even better than I would."

James looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No! It's just... nice to finally meet someone who understands. Everyone else just sees it as being ungrateful. I love my Dad, but—"

"You just wish you didn't seem insignificant?"

"Exactly."

Their new friendship was officially marked when the train stopped rolling and everyone shoved to get out the front exit. Sitting at the back of the train had its advantages, though, including being able to slip out the back and pass in front of the crowds splitting up into one small group and one large one. The older students automatically went to the chariots being pulled with magic, and the younger followed Hagrid. True to his parents' stories, Hagrid was larger than an average-sized man and just as merry as ever, with eyes so dark they could be black and a bushy beard that seemed as though it could hold anything from doxy eggs to flowers. There was one exception, though, and James was sure it would make his dad nostalgic; Hagrid's beard was no longer solid black, but had several silver streaks running through it.

"First years, follow me!" he announced in his deep, friendly tone. He turned and started on the path towards the Black Lake. "Now pay attention, young ladies and gentlemen, you're about to see Hogwarts!"

The ride over to the docks was mesmerizing to James. He'd hopped into a boat with Lucy and another girl in it. He didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, only the silhouette of this amazing castle about to be his home.

Walking through the main doors made his heart flip out of his chest completely. The portraits were all welcoming and smiling, several speaking in Irish accents, and a few pointing to ghosts in the stairway waiting for their entrance into the Great Hall. Suddenly, a familiar face greeted him at the end of the hall, not in a painting, but as his tangible self; Neville Longbottom. With a wink in James's direction, he began speaking with authority to the gathering first-years.

"Gather round, gather round," he chided. "My name is Professor Longbottom." There were several snickers at the back, all of which were instantly silenced with the screeching of the age-old cat, Mrs. Norris. "I'm the Deputy Headmaster and I am here to welcome you to Hogwarts before you are tested."

Many of them gasped at his words, not aware that they were to be put through a trial before school began. "Now, now, this is no ordinary test," Neville, er—Professor Longbottom continued. "There are no right or wrong answers, so there is nothing to be afraid of. This test is referred to as sorting, during which you will be placed by the Sorting Hat into one of four denominations: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw."

Conversation erupted at the mention of the houses. Everyone would be sorted, but where you were placed would determine your home for the next seven years.

"Follow me," Neville announced with a commanding effect. The grand entrance into the Great Hall was remarkable as well. James couldn't take his eyes off the ceiling, or where the ceiling would be without the use of magic.

"Welcome, students, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" The voice was surely that of Professor Minerva McGonagall, another of his family's teachers. It was difficult to say how old the woman was, though with her authoritative demeanor it didn't seem to matter. She was not someone to be ignored. "Now, before we begin our meal, we shall commence our Sorting. Professor Longbottom, would you please do the honors?"

"Certainly," he replied, producing a weathered and beaten hat from his robes along with a list of names on a scroll of parchment.

To his surprise, the Sorting Hat shook the dust from itself as if to clear its throat and began to sing. This wasn't the poetry and odd advice James recalled of his parents tellings, but a ballad of bravery, truth, wit, intelligence, and unity. After the Sorting Hat's tale, Professor Longbottom took to the platform once more to announce the first name.

"Baker, Lacey."

She stepped forward, clearly nervous to be the first in line. The crowd grew quiet, waiting in anticipation for the Sorting Hat's answer. It took several seconds before finally deciding. "Ravenclaw!" The blue oriented table exploded into a burst of cheers, welcoming the new student to the family.

The list continued, rambling from name to name until James lost track. The only one he seemed to catch was Kiely, Lucille as she stepped up to the stool. The Sorting Hat didn't skip a beat in announcing, "Gryffindor!"

The sea of red applauded for their first year recruit as she took her seat and Professor Longbottom moved on to call the roll. Eventually, he arrived in the 'P' section of the list and announced, "Palacio, Christopher." The hat immediately decided to put him in Slytherin and shortly after, his twin sister, Catherine, in Hufflepuff. An odd pair, no doubt.

"Potter, James," he announced. The whole room was silenced as James took a seat on the wooden stool.

The sensation he received when the Sorting Hat came over the tops of his ears was remarkable. "Gryffindor!" His eyes lit up as he joined Lucy and the other Gryffindors at the table. There didn't seem to be just cheers anymore... it was more of a roaring in his ears until the headmistress shouted, "Settle down, now, we still have a few more."

From the minute he was seated, James was content with his new home away from home and in this moment, relief washed over him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Good morning, everyone!" the man called, announcing his presence in the dark dungeon. "My name is Professor Brookshire, it's good to see you all and I look forward to getting to know you. Now, for today, you will only need your wands."

James fished his textbook out of his bag and took in his surroundings. There were eight tables altogether with standard pewter cauldrons next to them. The Gryffindors seemed to favor the right side tables with the Slytherins preferring the left. No one was quite ready to interact with the other houses yet, as they were still getting used to their own.

"Before we delve into the art of potion-making, you must first know the basics," he began. "Does anyone know how your wand plays a significant role in brewing potions?"

A Gryffindor girl raised her hand slowly. "Yes, Miss..."

"Moore, sir," she informed him. "Charlotte Moore."

"Proceed, Miss Moore."

"A wand allows you to clean the cauldron," Charlotte said.

"It does indeed," Professor Brookshire applauded. "Does anyone care to venture why you don't use soap and water in a cauldron?" The question left the young crowd perplexed.

"No one?" he asked. When it seemed apparent that no one knew the answer, the professor continued, "They work the same as cast iron pans. The cauldron will rust if you use soap and water on it. Nearly caused a divorce between my wife and I when she used soap on mine."

"Really?" a Slytherin girl asked with a shaky laugh.

Professor Brookshire shook his head and gave a hearty laugh. "No, but that's why it's important to know how to clean it properly! Today, we'll cover the wand movement. Is everyone ready?"

The class nodded earnestly, eager to use their wands for the first time. James held the wand in his left hand and felt the mahogany beneath his fingers, 10" long with a unicorn tail hair core. Before he could turn his attention back to Professor Brookshire, a whisper stole his interest.

"Psst." It was the girl who had just raised her hand behind him, Charlotte Moore. "Are you left-handed?"

James nodded, wondering how she had picked up on such a minute detail, and tried to focus his concentration to the front of the room. "That's so cool," she remarked, her cerulean eyes shining. "I'm Charlie, by the way."

"Pleasure to meet you," said James. "My name's James Potter."

The pair of them turned their heads back to Professor Brookshire, who was just beginning his spill on how to properly hold your wand. He described it as the same way you hold your quill, only up the opposite direction. "Next, you spin the wand in an S-shape," he instructed. "Everyone, together on the count of three."

"One... two...," they chorused. "Three!"

The students waved their wands in unison, some swirling large curves while others hardly made a loop. Hurriedly trying to correct the movement, Professor Brookshire rushed about the dungeon, demonstrating to each table the proper way to form a small circle with their wand.

Charlie wasted no time in seizing the opportunity to make conversation again, only this time, she decided to get Lucy's attention. "Lucy, it's in your grip. Don't clench your fingers together; it's making rigid lines instead of an S." By her sharp eyes, James noticed she was wary of minuscule details.

As Professor Brookshire rounded the tables to assist the Slytherins and Gryffindors, James heard his surname whispered. He whipped his head around to see who it was, but it was only Lucy quietly relaying the tale of the Potters to Charlie, who's agape mouth told James she was of Muggle descent.

"Now, does anyone have questions on the wand movement?" the professor questioned. The dungeon was so quiet, James was sure he could have heard a quill drop. "Moving on to the incantation. Of course, you'll cover this in Charms class later this year, but for today, you can begin mastering the Scouring Charm."

As soon as the "ooh's" and "aah's" were over, Professor Brookshire wrote the word 'scourgify' on the board with a gesture of his wand. The class refrained this phrase to be sure of the pronunciation and was promptly given squalid utensils to clean and released to practice this spell.

"Scourgify!" echoed the students, repeating the charm over and over, trying to enunciate and keep the proper wand movement they were just taught. James found there was much more to spell casting than pointing a wand and uttering a few bogus words; it took thought and concentration.

Potions class was almost over by the time James mastered the spell. In one last attempt, his wand seemed to come alive and scour the grime from the glass vial. Exiting the dungeon, a sense of pride and accomplishment surged in James as he made his way with the other Gryffindor first years into the Great Hall.

James took a seat next to a boy from his dormitory named Will Haverford, a lofty young lad from Wales. "Looks like a great meal today, eh, James?" He nodded.

"So," a familiar voice began. Charlie seated herself next to James as Lucy sat opposite of him. "I just overheard some Hufflepuffs talking about Quidditch trials. That means flying lessons must be soon."

The prideful emotion in James evaporated instantly as it was replaced with the excitement of upcoming Quidditch lessons. Learning to play Quidditch, even though he'd never learn to fly, gave him utmost respect for the game, knowing he could someday be just like his parents. James speculated in awe, "I wonder what it would be like to watch a Gryffindor Quidditch match."

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Charlie answered.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone! I urge all of my readers to review for this story, and I would like to thank those who have already. I also owe many thanks to my wonderful beta for the encouagement and suggestions.


End file.
